


Just a Conversation Between Friends

by alluviate



Series: Peter B. Parker Is a Sadsack™ [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Peter B. Parker Needs a Hug, Teasing, Weight Issues, can be read as platonic or spideypool whatever you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 07:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alluviate/pseuds/alluviate
Summary: Peter B. Parker gets a late-night visit from an old friend. A friend that’s not afraid to speak his mind.





	Just a Conversation Between Friends

**Author's Note:**

> this kinda serves also as a prequel to my fic Not the Hero We Deserve https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020540

Deadpool was not the last person to notice the absence of Spiderman in the streets of New York, but he had his own hands busy and respected Peters’ privacy, so it took a rather long time before he decided it was about time to check up on him. It was around 2 AM when he climbed up the fire escape of this ratty apartment building that some had the audacity of calling a house. Peter had his television on and it shed its brightness illuminating the room. There was a glimpse of a baby penguin on the program. Through the window Deadpool saw that the man was asleep on the couch with just his sweatpants on, revealing this newfound softness of his pale belly. Deadpool did the old knock but enter immediately, which is frowned upon by most people. Peter jolted awake in a second.

 

“Jesus Christ Wade, why are you breaking into my apartment?”

Peter got up and started rummaging for clothes from the floor, finding a faded t-shirt that did a rather poor job fitting him, leaving his gut hanging out of it.

“I wouldn’t compare myself to Jesus Christ, but I sure am here as your savior to tell you to get new clothes.”

“Shut up, I’m just bloated.”

“Yeah, many of you ladies get that when you’re on your period… But I thought you wouldn’t get them when you’re pregnant.” Deadpool put his ear against Peter’s stomach and jiggled it with his hands. “Is it a pizza or a burrito?”

Peter pushed Deadpool away rather too aggressively.

“Though shit coming from a dude whose skin looks entirely like a pizza.”

“Whoo, shots fired!” Deadpool started walking inquisitively around the tiny floor space available. “So, whatcha been up to, besides shoving your feelings down your throat?”

“Not that it’s your business, I’m not eating my feelings, I just need a bit of me time, and pizza is a part of it.”

“That,” Deadpool poked his doughy pudge “is called comfort eating.”

“And this,” he continued by making a vague gesture towards Peter “is called depression.”

Peter slouched on the couch and kept staring at the floor. Deadpool sat beside him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s back, isn’t it?”

He waited for a while, but Peter said nothing.

“Is this going to be like the freshman year again, when we had to physically carry you to see the shrink? Although we might need a forklift this time since…”

“Is everything a fucking joke to you?” Peter cut in the middle of the sentence.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood, Petey. When did you become so touchy…”

Peter slapped his hand of his shoulder.

“Touchy? Sorry if I can’t see what’s funny about that none of my clothes fit me and my life is in fucking shambles.”

Deadpool just blinked in confusion, since he was not used to getting a rise out of Peter with his provocations.

“I’m going to bed. Great visit,” Peter said and flopped onto his futon.

A minute of silence passed.

“Can I stay?”

“Yeah.”

 

.

 

The next morning when Peter woke up, Deadpool had just gotten out of the shower, and was prancing around in just a hand towel. Peter sat up and glanced the other man’s perfect abs and looked back at himself, where he now had these stomach rolls instead. Deadpool noticed this and understood how difficult all of this was for him.

“Shower time, hot stuff!” he announced, and threw a towel at Peter.

Peter dragged himself in the shower and Deadpool started to brush his teeth and go through his mirror cabinet in the bathroom.

“You’re off your meds?” he called out into the shower.

“Yeah, they made me sleepy,” came Peter’s voice muffled by the sound of water flowing.

“What the fuck, dude? You think this is a better alternative?” Deadpool’s face appeared from the corner of the curtain.

“Will you please stop telling me how to live my life?” Peter said with exhaust and anger, and pushed his face out of the shower.

“I am not telling you to do anything,” Deadpool started patiently “I am just a friend making sure that a friend is treating their clinical depression.”

Peter let out a deep sigh but said nothing.

“You know you don’t need to do this alone. Self-medicating will only make you feel worse.”

“Thanks. Now can you please leave?” Peter said defeatedly.

“I was there with you before. I’ll be there for you again.”

“Please?”

Deadpool felt like he had accomplished at least something and should now give Peter some real me time. He got into his suit and left from the window, quite pleased with himself about the stance he had taken.

After he was sure Deadpool was gone, Peter got out of the shower, closed the blinds and got a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my second work ever so please tell what you think about it :)


End file.
